


Day 19: "I keep kissing strangers and pretending they're you," (so let's just keep pretending)

by chiralchaos



Series: Turkstober 2020 [12]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: M/M, Office Shenanigans, Turkstober (Compilation of FFVII), smug Rufus Shinra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:55:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27109105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiralchaos/pseuds/chiralchaos
Summary: “I'm tasked to protect you,” Tseng watches Rufus as carefully as Rufus watches him. “It’s our job to make sure no harm comes to you.” His eyes drop down to trace Rufus’s fingers, now trailing down the side of the monitor and onto the desk. “Your protection is our highest priority.”“My protection …” Rufus echoes. A smirk spreads across his features slowly, and Tseng looks up when he hears the tone of his voice. His eyes don’t make it to Rufus’s own though, fixating instead on the curve of his lips. “I’ve seen the way you look at me Tseng,” Rufus says directly, “And that’s not the way you look at someone you’retasked to protect,”Tseng swallows. Rufus smiles. The expression iswicked, and Tseng tries so hard to deny it. He’s been trying for months though, and with each encounter it only gets harder, and harder, and harder.And it’s damn hard right now.Rufus confronts Tseng in the office after hours, and Tseng struggles with what it means for the Turks to take care of the VP.
Relationships: Rufus Shinra/Tseng
Series: Turkstober 2020 [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1965964
Comments: 8
Kudos: 25
Collections: Turkstober 2020





	Day 19: "I keep kissing strangers and pretending they're you," (so let's just keep pretending)

It is late, well past normal work hours, and Tseng is the only one left in the office. Of course he is. This works out in Rufus‘s favour though as it makes the head Turk so much easier to corner on his own, and he takes full advantage.

Tseng’s eyes are focused on his monitor when Rufus walks in, but he doesn’t question the sudden appearance. The VP often lets himself in at odd hours.

“What’s your job description, Tseng?” Rufus asks casually. He leans his hip against the desk, tips his head at the Turk, watches him oh so closely. Tseng doesn’t look up but he does frown ever so slightly. Maybe he’s frowning at the question? Maybe he’s frowning at his work.

“Sir?”

“It’s a simple question.” Rufus pushes himself away from the desk and saunters forward. He runs his hand along the top of Tseng’s monitor, ensuring he has his attention. The Turk finally meets his eyes.

“I …” he begins, unsure of the reason for the question, “ …along with my fellow Turks, we‘re tasked to protect you,” He watches Rufus as carefully as Rufus watches him. “It’s our job to make sure no harm comes to you.” His eyes drop down to trace Rufus’s fingers, now trailing down the side of the monitor and onto the desk. “Your protection is our highest priority.”

“My protection …” Rufus echoes. A smirk spreads across his features slowly, and Tseng looks up when he hears the tone of his voice. His eyes don’t make it to Rufus’s own though, fixating instead on the curve of his lips. “I’ve seen the way you look at me Tseng,” Rufus says directly, “And that’s not the way you look at someone you’re _tasked to protect_ ,”

Tseng swallows. Rufus smiles. The expression is _wicked_ , and Tseng tries so hard to deny it. He’s been trying for months though, and with each encounter it only gets harder, and harder, and harder.

And it’s damn hard right now.

“…sir?”

“Tseng …”

And before he even knows what’s happening, Rufus is on him and all over him all at once. His lips are demanding, would be soft if they weren’t so insistent, and his hands are balled in the front of the Turk’s suit, tight. Tseng tries to protest but the second he makes a sound Rufus takes advantage, tongue hot against his own. The Turk pushes himself up and to his feet with Rufus pressed against him, leaning back from the blonde.

“Sir, I can’t-” Tseng starts the second he has room to breathe, and Rufus doesn’t care.

“You can,”

“I _can't_ ,” Tseng pushes himself further back, as much as he can with the blonde’s fingers wrapped around his lapels. He tries to pry them away but there is no give, and there is a hunger in Rufus’s eyes that he’s never seen before. “I’m a _Turk_ ,” he forces out, “It’s my job to keep an eye on you.”

“It’s your job to take _care_ of me,” Rufus shoots back, “So take _care_ of me.” He leans in again but Tseng jerks back. Rufus’s grip tightens.

“You’re the _Vice President_ ,” Tseng states. The hammering of his heart betrays what he’s saying, Rufus can feel it against his knuckles, and he watches the pounding of the pulse in his neck, hard, fast. “You’re the President’s _son_ ,” Tseng continues, but Rufus is having none of it. The lust in the Turk’s dark eyes mirrors his own, and the denial only makes him more hungry. He’s wanted this for months. He knows the other man has too.

“Then _pretend_ ,” he says, and it‘s a _growl_. Not taking his eyes off Tseng’s he steps back, unbuttons his coat and throws it to the floor like it _burns_. “I’m not the VP,” he says, pulling his tie off throwing that down too, “I’m not the President’s son,” The gloves are yanked off, added to the pile. “I’m _no one_.”

He can virtually see Tseng’s thoughts racing, weighing everything up, and he’s done with it all.

“Stop thinking,” he says harshly, “And _fuck_ me.”

The denial has been hard but right now Tseng is harder, and he has never needed telling twice.

***

It is the next morning, and it has been tougher than normal to stay awake in the weekly board meeting, the discomfort that comes with shifting in his seat being the only thing keeping Rufus at least somewhat focused. Rude has accompanied him to the boardroom this morning and meets him again outside, and together the two of them walk into the Turks’s office on Basement Three.

“Reno,” he says by way of greeting, nodding at the redhead, and then, “Tseng,” nodding again, meeting the head Turk’s eyes unflinchingly. Tseng casually notes the slight bruise on the VP’s wrist, and the hint of something poorly hidden beneath his shirt collar, and he shrugs both of them off. Nothing to do with him.

“Sir,” he replies politely. He adjusts his gloves and returns to his screen, leaving the President’s son to update them on the morning’s meeting.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Day 19 of Turkstober 2020, "I keep kissing strangers and pretending they're you". There was way more of this planned but after a few days off I just had to leave it at this. I'm PRETTY sure I'll be returning to fill those blanks though, if you know what I mean, wink wink.


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